


International Relations

by Emospritelet



Series: Sprite's Festive Fic Fest [6]
Category: Cobra (TV 2019), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, Dirty Talk, Drinking, F/M, Floor Sex, Kissing, Lacey being forward as fuck, Oral Sex, Power Outage, Smut, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: It's almost Christmas, the biggest snowstorm in ten years is bearing down on the English countryside, and there's a lavish party for politicians and diplomats at Chequers. Lacey French, the High Commissioner's daughter, makes quite an impression on the Prime Minister.
Relationships: Lacey (Once Upon a Time)/Robert Sutherland (Cobra)
Series: Sprite's Festive Fic Fest [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560835
Comments: 56
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Cobra isn't out yet, but lack of familiarity with source material has never stopped me from writing Robert Carlyle characters having sex with Belle/Lacey and it never will.
> 
> The smut is not in this chapter but will be coming soon :)
> 
> @virgidearie prompted: 8 "I never saw a candy cane I didn't want to suck"

The scents of pine and cinnamon were hanging in the air, the sound of cheerful conversation and light, pleasant music surrounding him. The room was dominated by an enormous Christmas tree covered in warm-toned lights, set next to the grand marble fireplace. Robert Sutherland shook the hand of the French Ambassador as they finished going through the obligatory diplomatic small talk. Little of substance would be discussed at the Christmas party, he suspected, but the niceties had to be observed.

The French Ambassador moved on to speak with the Foreign Secretary, and Carrie de Ville was back by his side as though she had appeared from nowhere. Tall, slim and elegant, draped in a cream silk beaded dress, she was carrying a glass of champagne between thumb and forefinger as she eyed the crowd of politicians and diplomats that had arrived for an evening of drinks, expensive canapés and gossip.

“We’re almost done with the meet and greet,” she said. “Just a few to go.”

“You could have brought me a bloody drink,” he grumbled. “I’ve been standing here making small talk with everyone that passes for half an hour.”

“Yes, you must have spoken to a grand total of ten people, how _ dreadful_.”

“It’s been at least twenty, and you know it.”

“Oh, have this one, if you’re going to whine about it.”

She shoved the glass of champagne into his hand, tossing her blonde hair with a sigh. Carrie was his Principal Private Secretary and, it often seemed, self-appointed big sister. Despite being younger than him. He took a slurp of the champagne, wetting his parched throat, and Carrie eyed him.

“No getting pissed and passing out under the Christmas tree,” she warned. “If I have to get Lance to carry you upstairs it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“My days of drunken shenanigans have been over for some time,” he said dryly.

“Pity. Drunken shenanigans are always the most fun.”

Sutherland shifted, uncomfortable in his suit, his tie a little too tight. He tugged at it to loosen the knot, grimacing.

“Leave it alone,” said Carrie severely.

“Why did I decide to put this tie on anyway?” he demanded.

“Because Ursula bought it for you, and you could never deny her anything,” she said. “Besides, it’s nice. Red and white striped silk. Perfectly respectable.”

Sutherland sighed.

“I look like a bloody peppermint stick,” he said sourly.

“Don’t be silly. It’s a festive choice.”

“Right, because festive is exactly what I feel like, waiting to welcome in every ambassador who’s staying in Britain for Christmas. I thought the storm would keep them away.”

“Free food and drinks at Chequers and the opportunity to bend the ear of the Prime Minister? Not even the worst snowstorm in a decade will keep them away.”

“Sounds as though that’s exactly what’s heading this way,” he said. “Tell me this party will be over before the worst of the snow gets here. I don’t want to be stuck with this lot for company if we get snowed in. I’m not sure my skills at small talk extend that far.”

“You know perfectly well that schmoozing is expected for a man in your position,” she said. “Goes with the job of being the boss of all of us, I suppose.”

“I’m the boss, am I?” he said dryly. “Bloody news to me. If it were up to me, I’d be spending the evening drinking whisky in my underwear.”

“Well, you could still do that,” she allowed. “But let’s at least wait until the press pack has gone. I imagine a shot of you in your boxers swigging Scotch would definitely make the front page. And not in the way we want.”

Sutherland chuckled, and stiffened as two new arrivals entered the room. A tall, somewhat heavy man with a receding hairline, dressed in a dinner jacket and tie and looking every bit as uncomfortable as Sutherland felt. Clutching his arm was a very pretty young woman with reddish-brown hair tied up in a messy bun, the blue sequined dress she wore covering her slender body to the neck, a thigh-high slit in the skirt exposing a pale, shapely leg.

“Ah, it’s the new Australian High Commissioner, Maurice French,” said Carrie, in an undertone. “I believe that lovely young thing is his daughter.”

As if she had heard, the High Commissioner’s daughter glanced over at Sutherland, raised an eyebrow, and smirked a little.

“Prime Minister,” said the High Commissioner, holding out a large, meaty hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“High Commissioner.” Sutherland shook his hand. “Likewise. I understand you’ve only been in post a week or so?”

“My predecessor had the poor timing to go and have a heart attack, right before Christmas,“ said Mr French heartily. “Thought I’d better get over here and settle in as soon as I could.”

A waiter wandered past with a tray of drinks: tall glasses of gin and tonic, ice cubes and lemon wedges clinking beside red and white straws that reminded Sutherland uncomfortably of his own tie. Miss French snatched one from the tray and put the straw to her lips. Sutherland looked back to Mr French.

“That must have been quite a change of scene to come from summer heat to the worst blizzards in a decade.”

“Well, at least it’s festive, I suppose,” said Mr French, looking around appreciatively. “Lovely place here.”

“Thank you. They say living at Chequers is the only good thing about being Prime Minister.” 

“Beats arguing with a bunch of politicians and journalists,” he said. “Must be tough to heat the place in this weather, though. What is it, seventeenth century?”

“Sixteenth,” said Sutherland. “But it’s well-insulated. How are you finding your own residence?”

“Makes a change trying to keep the heat inside, I have to say.”

Sutherland had to smile at that.

“Is the South African High Commissioner here?” asked Mr French. “I wanted to taunt him about the cricket. You a cricket man?”

“Ah - no, Scotland's focus is more on football and rugby than cricket,” he said. “We don’t really have the weather for it.”

"So I see."

“The South African High Commissioner is talking to the Chancellor of the Exchequer,” put in Carrie. “I suspect he’d far rather discuss cricket than the Chancellor’s gardening exploits.”

Sutherland grinned.

“This is my Principal Private Secretary, Carrie de Ville,” he said. “She’d be delighted to introduce you, I’m sure.”

The young woman tapped Mr French’s arm, and he started.

“Oh, this is my daughter, Lacey,” he added. “She’s my plus one for the evening.”

Mr French wandered off with Carrie, chattering about cricket and leaving his daughter frowning after him, gin and tonic in her hand.

“Miss French,” said Sutherland, making her look around. “Welcome to Chequers.”

Lacey French gave him a long, appraising look, eyes sliding up and down his form and coming to rest on his tie before flicking up to meet his. They were clear blue, ringed with dark lashes, and she had a very blunt, direct stare. The tip of her pink tongue wet lips painted the deep, luscious red of holly berries, and she raised her chin a little.

“You look like a candy cane,” she said, and Sutherland’s hand automatically went to the knot of his tie.

“It was a gift,” he said lamely, and she smirked.

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” she said lazily. “I never saw a candy cane I didn’t want to suck.”

She locked eyes with him as she raised her glass, red lips closing around the end of the straw, cheeks hollowing as she sucked, and Sutherland felt his eyes widen as a pulse of heat shot down through his body to his groin. Miss French smirked, licked those full lips, and walked away, hips swaying. Her dress was backless, the blue sequins just skimming her shoulders before plunging down to expose a tantalising amount of pale skin. He swallowed hard, and threw back the rest of the champagne in his glass. _ Well. That was bracing. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @virigdearie and @ripperblackstaff prompted: "Well, looks like the power's out!"

Sutherland was beginning to wish he had never decided to host this party. It had been Carrie’s idea; get the diplomats away from the city, only permit those members of the press who could be relied upon to behave themselves, and provide plenty of good food and wine to keep the conversation flowing. It was certainly more successful than the last such event he had been to, but from the rumours he heard, the weather was getting worse, and he was concerned that some or all of his guests would be stranded in snowdrifts.

He was also highly discomfited by the presence of Lacey French.

The High Commissioner’s daughter had rendered him speechless with one salacious comment and a knowing smirk, and he had found himself staring after her, watching the long, glittering skirt of her dress swish from side to side as she walked, a mermaid’s tail in sparkling blue. He had tried to collect himself, finding another drink and hurrying to speak to someone, anyone, to distract from the memory of the gleam in her eyes and the way she sucked on the straw in her drink. Running the country had kept him far too busy to think about the pleasures of female company for some years, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for the return of his libido. At least not in the middle of a party.

Fortunately the other guests were tipsy enough that conversation was easy to be had and far from taxing, but he found his eyes straying to Lacey a number of times. She was prowling the room, sampling the canapés and sipping a variety of drinks. Her father appeared to have ignored her since they arrived, deep in conversation with one diplomat or another, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Sutherland felt his eyes follow her as he tried to pay attention to the Norwegian Ambassador’s tale of her own plans for Christmas. Lacey was eating a bite-size chocolate dessert, eyes closed in pleasure. He swallowed hard, and she glanced around, licked chocolate from her fingers, and winked.

“And you, Prime Minister?” asked the Ambassador, tilting her head. There was a curious look in her blue eyes, and he realised he had no clue what she had just been saying.

“I’m sorry, I was miles away,” he said desperately. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

He strode away, weaving through the throng of guests and out into the blessed cool of the corridor. The door swung shut behind him, muffling the music and laughter, and he let out a deep sigh, beginning to pace up and down. _ Pull yourself together, you pervert! You’re the bloody Prime Minister, and you lose your shit because a pretty girl smiled at you? A bloody ambassador’s daughter, for fuck’s sake! What, you thought a diplomatic incident would be a great way to round out the year, did you? Bloody idiot! _

The door swung open, and Lance Knight, one of his regular Special Branch officers, stepped into the corridor.

“Everything alright, sir?” he asked.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he somehow managed to simultaneously be alert to danger and exude an air of calm competence, and Sutherland nodded to him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just give me five minutes.”

Lance nodded, folding his arms and waiting, and Sutherland paced the corridor slowly. The cooler air outside the Great Hall was refreshing, and he wandered along towards the entrance, Lance following a pace or two back. Sutherland ran a hand through his hair, grumbling to himself. He needed something to do other than think about how good Miss French had looked when she locked eyes with him.

He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was heading, and the sound of clicking heels took him by surprise as he rounded a corner and almost collided with Miss French herself. Lance was there to stop them actually bumping heads, but it had been a close thing. She settled back on her heels, drink sloshing in her glass.

“Well, if it isn’t the P.M.,” she drawled. “You hiding out here at your own party?”

“I needed some air,” he said automatically, and wondered with some exasperation if every interaction he had with her would put him on the defensive. He decided to try to wrest back a little control.

“It seems I’m not the only one skulking in the corridors,” he said. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” 

Lacey pulled a face, lips pouting. He wondered if she knew how pretty she looked doing it. He suspected she did.

“Nice place, great booze, _ delicious _ food,” she said, her voice going low and throaty. “It’s not my usual scene, though. Gotta say I’d rather be playing pool somewhere.”

“Oh.”

He was tongue-tied again, and stood there, brain screaming at him to say something. Where were his famed oratory abilities, which had seen him through many a Parliamentary debate?

“We have a billiard room,” he managed, and Lacey gave him a wide smile, eyes gleaming excitedly.

“Really?” she said, and gave him that appraising look again. “Want to play me? Ten quid says I can beat you.”

_ No. Don’t be ridiculous. You cannot leave your own party of politicians and foreign diplomats to go and shoot pool with this woman. _

“Alright,” he heard himself say.

* * *

Lacey French turned out to be very good at pool. He watched her rack the balls and take the first shot, bent low over the table, teeth tugging at her lower lip as she concentrated. She potted two on the opening strike, and he stood back from the table and watched as she potted two more. Her next shot made the ball rattle the bottom pocket before bouncing out again, and Lacey swore softly under her breath.

“Your turn,” she said, straightening up.

Concentrating on his shot gave him something to do rather than think about how good she looked, and so he took his time, potting two balls before his own shot bounced out.

“Do you live with your father in his residence?” he asked, pleased that the power of speech seemed to have returned to him. Lacey shook her head.

“Just staying for the holidays. Back at university in January.”

“Oh, where are you studying?”

“Edinburgh.”

Sutherland straightened up.

“So you live there?”

“Usually, yeah,” she said dismissively. “Wasn’t expecting Dad to get the High Commissioner job quite so soon. Guess there’s no reason to go back to Australia for a while.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Home? Sometimes. I miss the beach.”

She bent over, frowned, and then grasped the skirt of her dress, hitching it up a little and lifting one knee onto the edge of the table so she could take her shot. Sutherland tried to tell himself that he wasn’t entranced by the pale length of her leg. He definitely wasn’t thinking about how it might feel wrapped around his back, either.

“This winter weather must be tough to deal with.”

Lacey smirked at him.

“It’s okay as long as you keep your clothes on,” she said. “But there again, where’s the fun in that?”

She winked at him, and took her shot. The ball grazed the edge of the pocket and clipped another ball, making her swear. The sound of high heels trotting closer made him look around, and Carrie strode into the room, looking harassed.

“There you are!” she announced. “I was wondering where you had disappeared to! You do remember that you’re supposed to be the host of this thing?”

“I needed some air,” he said. “Miss French threatened to beat me at pool.”

“Yeah, and I _ am _beating you.”

“Well, if you could wrap it up,” said Carrie. “I just heard that the weather is taking a turn for the worse. The storm has swung to the north, so we’re directly in its path. I thought it would be best if we get everyone out now, while we can.”

“Agreed,” he said briskly, and laid his pool cue on the table. “Apologies, Miss French, but duty calls.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing,” she said. “We’ll call the game mine then, shall we?”

He turned to face her. She was chalking the end of her pool cue, one hip jutting out and that knowing little smirk twisting her beautiful mouth. God, he really was a bloody idiot.

“I’m sure your father is looking for you,” he said, in the most formal and distant tone he could manage. “Carrie, could you escort Miss French back to the High Commissioner?”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, I’ll find him,” said Lacey. “I’ll see you again, Prime Minister. You don’t get off that easily.”

He had already turned away, but her words made him shiver pleasantly. Heart thumping, he walked briskly from the room, Carrie trotting to keep up.

“What was all that about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said shortly, and she snorted.

“Bollocks!” she said. “If I hadn’t come in just then, one of you would have been spread out on the pool table. And I don’t mean Miss French.”

“We were playing a game of pool, it’s hardly a scandal.”

“Yet.”

“Well, it’s not likely to be, since everyone’s leaving!” he snapped. “Have the cars been arranged?”

“Yes, Sergeants Nolan and Humbert are coordinating. I suggest we say our goodbyes with as little ceremony as possible. There’s already a ten mile tailback on the M40.”

“Right.” They reached the Great Hall, Lance ducking in front of them to open the doors. “Let’s get everyone out of here.”

* * *

Without all the guests, Chequers was once more quiet and peaceful. Sutherland sat in his office, a glass of whisky on the desk in front of him, making brief notes as he got an update on the storm from the Transport Secretary.

“Trains won’t be running for at least the rest of today, probably tomorrow as well,” she said. “Flights have been grounded in London and the South East, but those in the South West and Midlands are alright for the moment. Gritters have been out on the roads, obviously, but the amount of snow that’s falling is too much for them to cope with. I’m afraid if people haven’t made it home for Christmas already, they might have to stay put.”

“Understood,” he said grimly. “Keep me informed.”

“Of course. Merry Christmas.”

“And to you.”

He put down the phone, sitting back in his chair with a sigh and reaching for the whisky. Cold weather planning was all very well until the first snowflake fell, but the winds were unpredictable, winters were getting worse, and the transport system was finding it increasingly difficult to cope. They needed a new approach, and he felt too tired and tipsy to think of one right at that second. A COBRA meeting, perhaps. He resolved to ask Carrie to set one up for the next morning. It would mean some attendees having to dial in rather than attend in person, but it couldn’t be helped. He scribbled a list of those he wanted present.

“Get your hands off me!”

Sutherland looked up, frowning, as a commotion started up outside his door. Pushing to his feet, he strode over and wrenched it open. He had thought that all the guests had left some time ago, so was very surprised to find Lance restraining Lacey French, who was clutching an open bottle of champagne and looking the picture of indignation.

“If you just calm down, ma’am,” Lance was saying in his usual placid tones. “No need for any unpleasantness.”

“I’ll calm down when you let me go!”

“Afraid I can’t do that, ma’am.”

“I doubt she’s here to kill me, Lance,” said Sutherland.

“Better safe than sorry, sir.”

“Let me _ go_!”

Sutherland growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

“Lance, let her go,” he said impatiently. “Miss French, what the bloody hell are you doing here? I thought you left with your father.”

Lance had released Lacey, and she squared her shoulders, glaring at him before turning to Sutherland.

“I told him I was going back into town to go out with friends,” she said carelessly. “He’s not expecting me back. I thought we could pick up that pool game where we left off.”

“I’m busy,” he said coolly, and she shook her head.

“It’s like midnight.”

“Oh, you think the business of running the country is nine-to-five, do you?” he snapped.

“I think you’ll drive yourself mad if you work twenty-four-seven.”

Sutherland sighed again.

“Want me to arrange a car for Miss French, sir?” said Lance mildly.

Sutherland opened his mouth to say yes, and the lights flickered once and cut off, plunging the hallway into darkness.

“Well,” said Lacey cheerfully. “Looks like the power’s out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ripperblackstaff prompted: "we can have our own Christmas party"

The kitchens at Chequers held a large supply of candles, and Lance provided a torch with surprising speed in order to locate them, so it wasn’t too long before Sutherland could see what he was doing. Within reason, anyway. He had moved from his study to the library, where a fire had been lit, and had poured himself a glass of whisky. Lacey was leaning against the desk, still clutching her open bottle of champagne, and he couldn’t be bothered to tell her to bugger off. Besides, the library was at least warm, and he had nowhere to send her with the snow blanketing the roads around them. The rest of the party guests had gotten out just in time, it seemed.

Lance’s shift had finished, but Sergeant David Nolan had taken over, and Sutherland had tasked him with finding out what was going on with the power loss. It turned out that the whole of the estate and the nearby villages were also dark, and Nolan said that the storm had knocked out power lines.

“It won’t be fixed tonight, sir,” he said. “No way anyone can get out in this weather, and it’s likely the roads will be impassable tomorrow.”

“Understood,” said Sutherland. “Keep me posted.”

“Sir.” Nolan eyed Lacey with a bemused look on his face. “I’ll - uh - be outside, sir.”

He stepped outside the door, closing it behind him. There was silence, but for the crackle and snap from the fire, and Sutherland looked at Lacey. Firelight danced, sending flickering shadows and bursts of warm light around the room. It highlighted the smooth curves of her cheeks and shone in her eyes.

“Well,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re trapped here, Miss French.”

“I’m not,” she said. “And it’s Lacey.”

“I should see about getting you a bed for the night,” he said. “The guest rooms are always ready.”

“What about yours?” she said.

He wanted to shiver at the low note of promise in her voice, and wanted to click his tongue in exasperation. _ She’s probably not even talking about getting in your bed, she’s telling _ you _ to _ get _ to bed. Stop letting your cock rule your bloody brain! _

“I’m not tired yet,” he said simply.

“People don’t just go to bed when they’re tired.”

She was smiling, her eyes gleaming with gold in the light from the candles and the crackling fire. He licked his lips nervously, feeling his cock twitch with interest. Lacey let her tongue wet her lips, making them glisten, and he looked away before he could grow fully hard. _ Damn the woman! Okay, she’s doing this on purpose! She knows exactly what she’s doing to me! _

More silence. Sutherland paced back and forth in front of the fire, wondering what to do with her, and discarding every suggestive notion his lust-fuelled brain was coming up with. You_ should probably just go to bed. Leave her down here. Nolan will show her to a guest room, she doesn’t need you here to entertain her. Go to bed, you idiot! Go to bed, have a fucking frenzied wank, and get it out of your system! _

When he looked around, Lacey was slowly pulling the pins from her hair. He had opened his mouth to tell her Nolan would show her to a room, but the words died in his throat as he watched her tilt her head back, exposing the pale length of her throat as she raked fingers through her hair. separating it into gleaming curls that bounced around her shoulders as she looked up. His pulse throbbed in his throat, and Lacey locked her gaze onto his, her lips parted a little. He could see her chest rise and fall with her breath, blue sequins glittering, and he was aware that he was staring with his mouth open. He snapped it shut, and Lacey tilted her head as she held up the champagne bottle.

“You want to help me drink this?” she asked.

“N-no thank you, I’ll stick with whisky.” He rubbed at the spot just above his left eye, where he could feel a headache forming. He probably shouldn’t be drinking at all with Lacey there to tangle his wits, but whisky in the evenings was something of a ritual. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t have a glass.”

“There are glasses in the cabinet over there.”

“It’s cool, I’ll just drink out of the bottle, I ain’t proud.”

Lacey slammed the bottom of the champagne bottle down on the desk, making him jump, and a gout of white foam spurted out of the open neck. She bent her head, letting the foam squirt into her mouth and run over her lips, sucking at the neck of the bottle. Sutherland felt his eyes widen at the sight of it, his cock swelling as his mind took the image and ran with it, as he imagined that sweet mouth wrapped around him, sucking him hard and drawing him deep. She let out a tiny moan, and straightened up, white foam running over her chin before she wiped it off with a thumb and sucked it clean. He swallowed hard, and Lacey sent him a tiny, secret smile.

“Oops,” she said.

_ She’s trying to kill me. She’s actually trying to kill me. _

“Uh - you said you were at university earlier,” he said desperately. “What are you studying?”

Lacey pursed her lips, pushing herself up onto the desk on the heels of her hands.

“What would you say if I told you it was politics?”

“I’d say you don’t strike me as the political type,” he said dryly, and she sniffed.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m doing a Master’s in Global Environment, Politics and Society.”

Sutherland raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“What’s the matter?” she said flatly. “You were expecting me to be an airhead?”

“No, not at all,” he said, lifting his glass to take a sip. “I just had you pegged for something on the arts side, like English, or journalism.”

“Want me to peg you?”

Sutherland choked, spraying whisky, and Lacey bit her lip to hold in her amusement. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and feeling his cheeks heat.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “The offer stands. I’ll even bring the lube.”

“Are you intentionally going all out to make me feel out of my depth, or is this just how you interact with everyone?” he demanded, and Lacey shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling.

“I think you’re probably surrounded by people telling you what you want to hear all day,” she said. “It’s good to mix things up a little.”

“Clearly you haven’t attended any Cabinet meetings,” he muttered.

“No, but maybe I will in the future,” she said. “My dissertation’s on the Climate and Renewable Energy Bill and the studies and political pressures that led to its drafting,” She lifted her glass. “Maybe one day you and I will be sitting around a table in a briefing room.”

“I suspect it would be the Minister for Climate and Environmental Protection, rather than me,” he said. “And I wish them the best of bloody luck with you.”

Lacey chuckled.

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t had fun this evening.”

Surprisingly, he realised he had. Despite feeling as though he hadn’t the faintest idea what was happening to him, it was exhilarating. Perhaps that was the reason. Perhaps she was right; every waking moment of his life had been mapped out and organised since he entered 10 Downing Street. It was almost refreshing not to have a bloody clue what the rest of the night would hold.

“Why did you stay here?” he asked. “Why hide away until everyone else had gone?”

Lacey sent him a puzzled look.

“Don’t you know?”

He stared at her, unwilling to say anything in case he had read her very, very wrong, and Lacey sighed.

“I want to have sex with you,” she said. “Please don’t lie and say I’ve been subtle, because I absolutely haven’t.”

Sutherland stared at her, trying to swallow past the lump in his dry throat. He took a sip of whisky to help.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “Subtle is not a word I would apply to you, Miss French.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “We can have our own Christmas party. You up for it?”

He drank the last of the whisky to give himself time to think, but his brain was filled with white noise and was providing him with no answers other than a gentle whisper of how good she would feel. He set the glass down on the mantelpiece.

“You do realise the tabloid press have been trying to catch me in some sort of sex scandal since I came to power?”

Lacey snorted.

“It’s the biggest blizzard in a decade, from what you told me,” she said. “I really doubt any of the paps are camped out in the gardens with a long lens on the camera.”

“I’ve learned you can never be too careful, in my line of work,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“This is your place, right?”

“Yes.”

“Staffed by your people.”

“Correct.”

“Who you trust completely.”

“I do.”

“So no one gets in without their say so, right?”

“Again, correct.”

“Then why would you think anyone would ever find out?” she pushed. “This is probably the safest place in the world for you to do something you want to keep secret.”

He hesitated, unable to fault her logic.

“Besides, why is it so wrong?” she added. “We’re both adults.”

“You’re half my age.”

“Does that bother you?”

Sutherland was silent, and Lacey smirked.

“Well then.”

“It would bother some.”

“They’re not here, and given that none of them are gonna give me a mind-blowing orgasm, I don’t give a flying fuck what they think.”

He chuckled at that.

“I like your confidence in my abilities,” he remarked. “Probably misplaced, but even so…”

Lacey smirked, and set down her glass, pushing herself off the desk with the heels of her hands and walking towards him with a slow, sensuous sway of her hips. He felt his heart thump in his chest as she drew nearer, until they were almost touching, and her eyes locked onto his. One hand rested against his chest, fingers walking up his silk tie, pressing gently, one by one. 

“You strike me as the kind of man with a great deal of energy and attention to detail,” she said, her voice a low purr. “Those are excellent qualities in a lover.”

“Is that what we are?”

“We could be, if you stopped over-analysing everything and kissed me.”

“Really?” he growled, and her smile grew, fingers tightening around the tie and tugging his head down to meet hers.

“Really,” she whispered.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his palm.

“Fuck it!” he whispered, and her smile grew.

“That’s the spirit.”

His mouth found hers, and she moaned as his tongue pushed inside, her taste sweet from the champagne, her mouth hot and wet. One hand slid up into the short strands of his hair, her touch sending shivers through him, and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him. It had been years since he’d had a good, long snog, and he’d forgotten how pleasant it was, how arousing to feel the press of a warm body against his and the intimacy of putting his tongue inside someone. His cock was a rigid line in his pants, pressing against the fabric of his boxers, and Lacey pushed against him, moving her hips to grind in a slow circle. It made him gasp into her mouth, and she broke the kiss, lips wet with saliva and both of them breathing hard. She smiled, a slow curve of her mouth, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Gonna take me upstairs?” she whispered, and he nodded.

“If you want.”

“I do.” Her hand tightened on his tie, and she nuzzled his nose with hers. “Like I said. I never saw a candy cane I didn’t want to suck.”

She kissed him again, and Sutherland groaned into her mouth, the kiss growing messy and frenzied. Maybe he’d tell Nolan to stay downstairs for once.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ripperblackstaff prompted: "All I want for Christmas is like a dozen orgasms. Is that too much to ask?"

Sutherland left the library at a rapid pace, Lacey’s hand clutched in his and the sound of her quiet giggles following him. Nolan’s eyes widened when he saw them, both with messy hair, Sutherland with his tie loose. He opened his mouth, and Sutherland gave him a look.

“Not a word, Sergeant,” he said, and Nolan swallowed whatever he had been about to say.

“Sir.”

They reached his room quickly, Nolan’s torch providing the only light in the darkened corridors, and Sutherland closed the bedroom door behind them, his last glimpse of Nolan’s face showing a weary look of resignation as he took up position. Too bad.

One of the staff had placed lit a fire in the grate, and it gave the room a pleasant warmth, orange light making shadows dance and swell in the corners of the room. Three squat church candles burned on the nightstand, sending out a warm, flickering light. Lacey was looking around approvingly.

“Nice,” she said. “Seems a shame to keep it to yourself.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” She grinned at him. “You’ve got me for the whole night. Want to make the most of it?”

He turned towards her, grasping her upper arms and pushing her back against the wall as he bent to kiss her, and the impact made the breath leave her lungs in a gasp, cool against his lips. She moaned as he kissed her, and his hands slid down her body, cupping her breasts, feeling the curves of her waist and hips as she parted her legs to let him press up against her. His tongue probed her mouth, the taste of her sweet and delicious, and her nails scraped his scalp, making him shiver.

One hand found the slit in her skirt, his fingers touching smooth, cool skin, and he slid the hand upwards, over her inner thigh, brushing against the lace of her underwear. He pressed his palm between her legs, the thin fabric wet against his fingers, soaked with her juices. Groaning into her mouth, he slipped a finger inside, feeling soft, wet flesh and the heat of her desire. Lacey moaned, pulling her mouth from his and letting her head thump back against the wall as his finger pushed inside her, thrusting deep.

“Yes!” she whispered. “Feels good! Give me another!”

He added a second finger, pushing in beside the first, stretching her and making her moan. She was slick and wet, and he let his thumb explore her, feeling the hard bud of her swollen clit, a delicate pearl of flesh coated in slippery fluid. He brushed over it with the pad of his thumb, making Lacey moan and clutch at his shoulders. His nose nudged her ear, and he breathed in her scent as he pushed and thrust, kissing down her neck until he felt the throb of her pulse beneath his lips. His tongue swirled over it, and Lacey let out a whine of pleasure as his fingers fucked her hard.

She was rising up on her toes, her fingers sliding up the nape of his neck to twist in his hair, and her moans grew high and strident, her body trembling against his. She let out a loud cry as she came, wetness trickling over his fingers and her body slumping in his arms as she jerked and twitched. He groaned at the feel of it, wanting to get inside her, to slide deep and fuck her hard. Lacey had closed her eyes, her cries fading to tiny, contented moans, and he drew the fingers out of her, sucking the cum from them, tasting her salt on his tongue.

“Wow,” she murmured. “That was awesome. And here I thought you politicians were all about the oral delivery.”

He let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s important to remember how to work with your hands, too.”

“Yeah, well, you rang my bells,” she said lazily. “Although we’ll still be looking into that oral thing later.”

He grinned.

“That’ll be my pleasure.”

“Mine too, I hope.” She pouted at him, lips still full from the pressure of his. “And now, I think it’s your turn.”

She lunged to kiss him, hands sliding over his chest and her mouth hot against his. Her fingers found his nipples through the shirt, thumbs rubbing in circles and sending jolts of sensation through him. It had been too long since he had been touched this way, with passion and desperate need, and he could feel his body responding to her, eager for her touch, aching to be inside her. Lacey’s tongue stroked against his, fingers sliding higher to pluck at the knot of his tie, tugging to loosen it. She got it open, the long length of red and white striped silk pulling from around his neck and fluttering to the floor, and his hands slid around her back, finding the concealed zipper at the base of her spine and drawing it down.

Lacey was plucking at the buttons of his shirt, and managed to get it open down to his navel as he pulled the dress from her shoulders. She broke the kiss, leaning back to let him draw the dress down her arms, peeling it from her to expose the creamy mounds of her breasts with their pink nipples. There was a crackle of plastic as they were revealed, and he raised an eyebrow as two foil packets fell to the floor from where they had been concealed by the dress. Condoms. Lacey shrugged.

“Girl’s gotta be prepared,” she said, and he grinned.

“Indeed,” he whispered, and pushed the dress down over her hips.

She stepped out of it, hands dropping to tug at his belt, kissing him again as she got it open and pushed his trousers down to fall around his ankles. He remembered at the last moment that he hadn’t taken off his shoes, and trying to step out of his pants made him stumble backwards and fall with a breathtaking thump on the thick rug. Lacey fell with him, giggling as her hands splayed on his chest, trying to find her balance. Her curtain of dark hair, fragrant with perfume, stroked against his face, and he reached up to brush it back, revealing flushed cheeks and bright eyes. _ Beautiful. _

“Okay, Prime Minister Candy Cane,” she said throatily. “Let’s see what you got.”

She began kissing his chest, pushing the shirt aside as her lips trailed down, sucking at first one nipple, then the other. Sutherland groaned, fingers sinking into her hair as her tongue swirled over him, and she shifted downward, kissing over his belly, tongue slipping into his navel as her fingers snagged the waistband of his boxers. He caught his breath, lifting his hips a little as she tugged them down, freeing his cock. 

Lacey made a satisfied sound low in her throat, like a cat purring, and he gasped as he felt hot breath against his skin, followed by the tip of her nose gently trailing along his length. It made his skin tingle, his senses heightened by his arousal, and he let out a low groan as she placed delicate, featherlight kisses to him. Each touch of her lips made him shiver, and his groan became a low cry as she swept her soft, wet tongue up his length. 

Her fingers closed around him, lifting his cock up from where it lay against his belly, and her lips brushed over the head, the tip of her tongue flicking at him. He glanced up, raising his head off the floor, and she met his eyes, her breath coming hard as she squeezed him. The tip of her tongue slipped out, tracing a slow circle around the head, and he groaned at the feel of it.

“_Fuck_, Lacey!”

“In a minute.”

She bent her head to him again, painting a wet circle with her tongue, rubbing over the sensitive tip as her hand started to slowly pump up and down. It felt incredible, and he gasped as wet lips parted over the head. She sucked him once, hard enough to make him groan, and let him slip out again, tongue swirling in a circle. Another hard suck, another swirling lick, and then her mouth opened, lips sliding down the length of his cock, heat surrounding him. 

Sutherland arched his back with a hoarse cry of pleasure as she took him deep into her throat, the feel of it making colours bloom in his head. She sucked hard, lips pulling at him, moving in time with her hand, her saliva running down his length. The feel of it was incredible, a throbbing, tingling wave of bliss rising up through his body, and he raised his head, panting heavily, his fingers trembling in the soft curls of her hair.

“Lacey!” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna fucking come if you don’t stop!”

She let him slip slowly from her mouth, hot breath bathing his cock as she looked up at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” she whispered, and he opened and closed his mouth.

“I - I want _ you_,” he said desperately, hoping she understood. Lacey gave him that slow smile again.

_“Oh…”_ She pressed a kiss to him. “You want _ me_…”

Her tongue swept slowly up the length of his cock, making him groan.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” she breathed, and licked him again. “Want me to straddle you right here and take you deep inside?” Another lick, this one trailing down to circle his balls before sweeping upwards. “Want me to ride you until your brains blow out?”

_ “ _ Jesus _ fuck_, woman!” he gasped.

“Well, okay then,” she said, with a tiny, satisfied chuckle.

She pushed upwards onto her knees, reaching for one of the condoms. Sutherland watched her take it out, his chest heaving, skin tingling from her touch and his cock already close to bursting. She rolled the condom on, taking him firmly in hand as she did so, then shifted forward on her knees to sink slowly onto him. He arched upwards with a low groan, sinking into her soft flesh and feeling her grip him tightly, and Lacey steadied herself, fingers spread on his belly as she settled. Her eyes were gleaming in the candlelight, the shining waves of her hair bouncing around her pale shoulders, and he thought she was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Ready?” she whispered. 

He nodded wordlessly, and she began to move, rocking slowly, moving her hips in tiny, deliberate circles. There was heat and wetness between them, from her saliva and her own fluids, and she made a throaty sound of contentment as she moved, her lips parted, her eyes closed. Being inside her was incredible, and he slid his hands up her smooth thighs, reaching up to cup her breasts and squeeze. Lacey moaned, quickening her pace a little, making the thrusts of her hips longer, letting him slip out a little further before taking him back inside.

“Fuck, that’s amazing!” he whispered. “You feel incredible!”

“You feel pretty good, too,” she breathed.

Her fingers tightened on his sides, digging into his skin, and he let his hands drop to her hips, holding her tight against him to increase the friction as she moved.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Yeah, that’s good! Keep doing that!”

She was moving more quickly, her thrusts rapid and shallow, her hips rocking back and forth, her flesh pulling at him, and he could feel that wave rising, waiting to crash over him. Her breath was quickening, her moans growing louder, and he let the pleasure take him, stars bursting behind his eyes and blinding him as he let out a deep groan of ecstasy. He came hard, his cock pulsing, and Lacey cried out as she followed him, pumping her hips, grinding against him. He pushed up into her as she rode out her orgasm, her cries matching his, until she fell forward onto her hands, head down and gasping for breath.

For a moment there was silence, only the heavy sound of their breathing as they tried to recover. Sutherland couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this relaxed, basking in the afterglow of pleasure, his skin tingling and his limbs heavy and loose. He was aware that he had a stupid grin on his face, and realised he didn’t care. Lacey let out a shuddering breath, raising her head to meet his gaze. She was heavy-eyed and contented, her grin every bit as wide and self-satisfied, and she used one arm to push her hair out of her face, licking her lips.

“Well,” she said. “Apparently we’re really compatible.”

“Apparently so,” he said lazily.

She shifted a little, hands bracing on his belly again.

“Not a bad way to finish your Christmas party, huh?” she added.

“The best way to finish it,” he agreed. “Certainly not the climax to the night I anticipated.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I was gonna be planning for tomorrow’s likely COBRA meeting.”

“My way’s better.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he agreed. “Though I doubt it’s how the Cabinet expects me to spend my evening.”

Lacey wrinkled her nose.

“Fuck them, you can take one day off.”

“Not usually.”

“But it’s almost Christmas.”

“Well, I don’t always get what I want for Christmas, I’m afraid,” he said, sounding as regretful as he felt. “Do you?”

She smirked at him, lifting a pale shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“All I want for Christmas is like a dozen orgasms,” she said. “Is that too much to ask?”

Sutherland couldn’t help grinning.

“A dozen?” he said. “Well. That’s quite a Christmas present.”

“I’ve been a very good girl.”

“I know for a fact that isn’t fucking true.”

Lacey giggled, falling forward to bury her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder for a moment before kissing him and pushing up again.

“Okay, fine,” she said, pouting a little. “But I think you like it when I’m bad.”

He looked pointedly around them, where discarded clothing littered the floor.

“So the evidence would suggest.”

“So do I get the orgasms, or not?”

Sutherland grinned, rolling them until she was on her back, his chest pressing down against hers and her legs wrapped around him. They felt every bit as good as he had thought.

“We should probably try to make it to the bed this time,” he said.

Her eyes gleamed.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Still coming out of hibernation,” he confessed. “But very much alive, I assure you.”

“Good.”

He kissed her, lips pulling at hers as he felt his cock begin to stir again. Lacey appeared to feel it too, breaking the kiss with a muffled giggle, and he grinned.

“A dozen, you said?” 

“That’s right,” she said, and kissed him again.

“Two down,” he murmured. “Ten to go.”

* * *

The morning sun was too bright against his eyelids, and Sutherland let out a muffled groan, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over his head a little to cut the glare. Opening one eye a crack, he could see that Lacey was standing at the bedroom window, holding the curtain open and peering out. She was wearing his shirt, the somewhat wrinkled tail draped over her naked rear, and he could feel his cock twitch against the sheets. As if it hadn’t already seen more action in the night than it had in years. He felt as though he’d been beaten up and left to die, every muscle in his body aching, but he couldn’t seem to stop grinning. It was indescribably wonderful.

“Wow, there’s a total whiteout,” Lacey remarked. “The snow’s piled in huge drifts, you should see it!”

“Come back to bed,” he murmured.

“I thought you had a meeting this morning.”

“It won’t be until ten,” he said. “We’ve got at least an hour before I have to get dressed.”

She turned to face him with a wicked grin, dark hair rumpled and messy, and climbed into bed, sliding her arms around him. Her skin was cold from the room, and he let out a growl of pleasure as he bent his head to kiss her. At least an hour.

* * *

The morning was bright, sunlight gleaming on the snowdrifts that cloaked the countryside and hid the gardens from view. Lance Knight shoved his chin down into his scarf as he trudged through the snow, counting the steps until he reached the main driveway. The staff had already made a start on clearing it, men working snow shovels that probably hadn’t seen any action in years, scooping white powder from the driveway and piling it by the sides. Lance greeted them as he passed, bearing their easy banter about his singing in the pub the previous evening, and making a few quips of his own. He was feeling only a little worse for wear after the party had gone on into the small hours, but had slept fairly well. No doubt David Nolan would be pleased to be relieved so he could get home to his wife and baby son. If indeed he could manage to drive there. The snowploughs hadn’t quite made it to them yet.

By the time he reached Nolan, in his place outside the door to the Prime Minister’s bedroom, his feet had warmed up a little, and David greeted him with a nod and a weary, somewhat cautious smile.

“Hey,” said Lance. “All quiet?”

“Depends where you’re standing,” said David cryptically.

“It’s stopped snowing, but they didn’t clear the roads yet,” said Lance. “You might have to walk to the village. Power’s still out there, too. Go home, go to bed.”

“Thanks.” David clapped him on the shoulder as they went to change places, and hesitated. “Uh - make sure you knock before you go in there.”

“I always do,” said Lance, bemused.

“Just - just knock. Trust me.”

David stomped off wearily, and Lance frowned after him. A giggle came from behind the door, and Lance swivelled on his heels, eyes narrowing. Another giggle, followed by a moaning sound.

“Well, well.” Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Sutherland sounding so - satisfied. “How many was that? I lost count some time ago.”

“Oh, I think we hit that dozen,” came the unforgettable voice of Miss French. “Merry bloody Christmas to me.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Social Distancing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248354) by [Emospritelet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet)


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